


Stydia Daydreams

by Olicitynowplease (sgcreations)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:39:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6394864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgcreations/pseuds/Olicitynowplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like the title says: Stydia Daydreams... moments between the two I sincerely believe have taken place but the writers "forgot" to include them</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Safe at last

Lydia let her mother usher her into the Stilinski home, until things were taken care of at Eichen they decided it was best she didn’t return home quiet so soon. Who would suspect the sheriff of harbouring a fugitive from a mental hospital and possible murder suspect. With Theo and his pack still looking for her, they’d decided it was best for her to stay hidden.

She let her mother hover over her, tucking her hair behind her ear as if she were a child again. Concern and guilt dimmed her mother’s usually humorous eyes, she pulled her into her arms again. She wasn’t sure she would have let go if not for the Sheriff’s interference and reassurance. “She’ll be safe here Natalie I promise, I’ve got a few trusted deputies outside and Scott and the others will be around.”

“I know,” she replied, her arms still entwined around her daughter. “Why don’t I help you upstairs, get you settled.” She didn’t wait for a reply, leading her up the stairs and into the spare bedroom. “I brought a change of clothes, your shampoo and that blanket you love… when you were small you…” he voice broke, tears trickling down her cheeks, “it’s all my fault… if I had listened…”

“Mom, its okay, I’m okay,” Lydia wrapped her arms around her, cradling her the way her mother had at the clinic. “He tried to tell me, but I refused to listen, what they did to you… its all my fault.”

“You did what you thought you had to, to save me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Next time I’m in trouble, don’t push Stiles away, none of this was his fault.”

“I just couldn’t help but think if it wasn’t for him and Scott…”

“It was my choice, it was my choice to help my friends and I will always make the same choice. They’re not just my friends they’re-“

“Family?”

“More. They’re pack”

Stiles stood just outside of the door, leaning back against the wall. He shouldn’t have followed but he couldn’t help it. Every time he lost sight of her the image of her lifeless body came back to haunt him. 

He didn’t hear Natalie leave but suddenly there she was standing in front of him. She didn’t say anything, but she did move aside no longer standing between him and the door, wiping an errant tear she walked away.

Lydia smiled slightly when she heard the knock on the door, she knew who it was, “come in Stiles.” She watched him hesitate, taking everything in before stepping into the room. She didn’t move as he sat on the bed besides her, she watched him wring his hands the way he did when he was thinking too much. Taking his hand in hers, she weaved her fingers through his, resting her other on his cheek as she gently forcing him to look at her. “I’m ok”

“You almost died tonight”

“Another day in Beacon Hills,” her attempt at levity didn’t help, he didn’t so much as smile as his eyes searched hers for answers. “I’m fine Stiles, I’m ok because of you.”

“The others helped, Scott, Malia, Kira, Liam, Mason and Parrish.”

“I know, but I also know I’m alive because of you, I’m alive because you came back. YOU saved me, who else could plan a break in and pull it off when everything went wrong?” He did laugh that time, she didn’t realise how much she missed his smile until she saw it light up his face, the mischievous twinkle back in his eyes. ‘We’re going to get through this Stiles, we’re going to graduate and we’re going to be ok.’

Leaning in he cradled her cheek, he had done it so often she didn’t think much of it until he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. He didn’t pull away, not straight away and when he did he looked at her with so much love she had to look away, afraid he’d see the same look in her eyes.

Worried he’d gone to far he considered saying something humorous, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. Instead he stood up and stepped away, but Lydia didn’t let go of her hand, when he raised his eyebrow in question, ‘Stay with me… I don’t… I don’t want to be alone…’

Without a word Stiles followed her onto the bed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close until he cradles her thin frame. Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

Lydia closed her eyes, a sense of peace and security falling over her as she snuggled closer. She though she heard him murmur she’d never be alone again, but she was too far in the land of dreams to ask him. Content at last, safe at last, they slept, tomorrow they’d go back to being just friends.


	2. Moving on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Stiles is visiting his mother's grave he sees he's not the only one still mourning.

There was a slight chill in the air, the morning mist lingered and the grass beneath his feet was still wet from the rain. Stiles turned up the collar of his jacket, one hand in his pocket as he looked down at the bouquet of magnolia in the other, his eyes focused on the soft pink and white petals. He had so much to say, yet he couldn’t seem to form the words, so he stood there and just gazed at the engraved words: _Claudine Stilinski, loving wife and mother._

With a final sigh he set down the flowers and walked away, maybe next week he’d say it.

He would have walked straight to his jeep like he did every week, and sat behind the wheel berating himself for being a coward if it weren’t for the sound of a familiar voice. 

He heard her animated voice across the deserted graveyard and it felt as if the broken parts of him were slowly healing. Looking across the cemetery he saw her, sitting in front of a tombstone, her green woollen coat wrapped around her, but doing a poor job of keeping the morning chill away.

He wasn’t sure what to do.

A part of him wanted to walk over to her, to talk to her and to be close to her. But another part of his brain said: walk away, maybe she wanted to mourn alone. Just as he made his decision to leave, she looked up and he was trapped. Her big hazel eyes bore into his and her pale rose lips tilted up into a sad smile.

In that moment he was lost.

He no longer felt the pain, the cold or the emptiness, all he saw was that smile.

He didn’t remember walking across the graveyard but in seconds he was standing next to her. When she didn’t stand up, he stood behind her, looking down at a gravestone that read:

_Allison Argent_

_Beloved daughter and friend_

_Nous protégeons ceux qui ne peuvent pas se protéger_

 

She gazed up at him, a single tear in her eye as she touched the gravestone one more time. Reaching out, he clasped her shoulder, for a moment sharing her grief and reminding her she wasn’t alone. They had lost too many people in their short lives, and they’d lose so many more before the end. It was the burden of living in Beacon Hills.

His hand fell to his side as she rearranging the purple irises and stood up, standing in silence beside him. Once again he did not know what to say, and it seemed neither did she. Instead, he felt her soft hand grasp his, their fingers entwining. He wasn’t sure if he was anchoring her, or her him, but a selfish part of him was glad he had someone to share his grief with.

After a while they walked away, still, she held on, not yet ready to break their connection. They took a seat on a nearby bench, neither ready to go home just yet.

Lydia was the first to break the silence, ‘Were you visiting your mother?’

‘Yh... yhe’, his voice was rough from the lack of use (at least that’s what he told himself), ‘Purple iris?’ he asked. 

Lydia smiled, ‘When she was in France she told me about the iris that grew in the garden where she spent her days. She said, when she had a house of her own, she’d fill her garden with them. I told her I’d buy the house next door and fill it with red tulips.’ She laughed softly, lost in her memories.

 ‘I come by… every week.’ He wasn’t sure why he told her, even Scott didn’t know how often he visited her grave. Lydia didn’t say a word, waiting for him to continue. He released a long rattled breath, a mix between a sigh and a laugh. ‘I come here to tell her something, but every time I try I…’ 

‘Can’t find the words?’

‘Yhe.’

‘The first time I came to see Allison I felt the same way. I didn’t know how to say I was sorry. I was sorry that she died trying to save me. I was sorry she died because of me.’

‘Lydia, it wasn’t your fault, she chose to come and save you, you were her best friend.’

‘I know, and knowing Allison she would have done the same thing for anyone else. But it took me a while to see that, to say that to her, but I knew that if I didn’t I would never be able to begin moving on.’

Facing him, she lifted her hand, wiping away the stray tear. She didn’t immediately move her hand, instead cradling his cheek. Tilting his head forward so their foreheads touched, he closed his eyes. He would have given anything to remain in that moment of peace for eternity.

‘You deserve to be happy Stiles,’ her words were barely a whisper. Kissing the back of her hand in thanks, he stood up and held out his hand, silently asking if she would come with him. The smile she gave him said _of course_.

Once again, he stood in front of his mother’s grave, this time, his hand clasped in Lydia’s reassuring embrace. Taking a deep breath, he said the words that had been weighing on him since the Nogitsune had left him; since he saw the memory of his dying paranoid mother whispering, ‘he’s trying to kill me.’

‘For a long time I thought that dad blamed me, for what happened to you, I’d have nightmares of him screaming, _she died because of you!_ And when I saw that memory… of you in the hospital, convinced I was going to kill you… I… I know now, that you didn’t mean it. I know now what it’s like to think you’re losing your mind; when you can’t tell the difference between your dreams and reality. I want you to know, I don’t blame you, I love you and that I need you. I may not have killed you, but I am a murderer. I may not have been me when I killed those people but every time I close my eyes I see their faces. I feel so much guilt, it’s like I’m drowning.’

Lydia’s hand tightened ever so slightly. Taking a deep breath, he continued, ‘but I promise I’m going to do everything I can to make amends. I can’t bring back the people I killed, but, I can try and save some lives. I can try and be a son you can be proud of… I love you, mom.’ 

He didn’t bother wiping away the tears that now fell freely. When Lydia wrapped her arms around him, he hesitated only a second before pulling her closer. Arms around each other they walked away.

The next day, neither of them said a word about what happened, but when Lydia got home that night she found a single red tulip on her doorstep.


	3. Being ill has its perks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is ill and his dad and best friend are out of town, leaving him in the care of one Lydia Martin.

He was sick. High fever, runny nose, and coughing fit sick.

His dad was out of town to consult on an ‘animal attack’.

Scott was visiting Kira (even though he wasn’t supposed to).

Liam, Mason, and Hayden were on a ‘Beast no more’ road trip.

Malia was off training with Braeden, the encounter with her mother had left her with new abilities.

Which meant he got to spend the weekend, on his own, with no mystery to solve and no one to keep him company. His dad had offered to return, but he’d convinced him to stay on the case. Once his fever lowered and he could stand for longer than two minutes he’d drive over and see what he could do to help. Of course, his father had specifically said not to turn up (but he can’t have meant it, he was the sheriff’s best detective when it came to all things supernatural).

Stiles flicked through the channels one more time, barely registering what was happening as he sat there wrapped in a huge beige blanket. Huffing in frustration, he stood up and stumbled to his room, where he unceremoniously packed his overnight bag.

With his bag in one hand and the keys to his jeep in the other, he stumbled to the front door. When he did finally manage to swing open the door, he found Lydia standing on his doorstep, her hand raised as if she were about to knock. Seeing what he was up to, he folded her arms, tilted her head in disappointment and raised her eyebrows in question. He opened his mouth to argue, but she was already pushing him back into the house and up the stairs to his room. 

‘Why are you here?’

‘Banshee prediction,’ she said, pointing to herself. ‘Really?’ He stopped in his tracks and looked at her in amazement. ‘No, your dad called asked me to make sure you wouldn’t be stupid enough to follow him, I told him even you weren’t dumb enough to drive with a fever and high on medication. Clearly, I overestimated your intelligence.’

‘He needs me.’

‘He’s the Sheriff, he doesn’t need you. Besides, Parrish is there and if they need our help they’ll call.’ Lydia ignored the face he made at the mention of Parrish as his dad’s backup, deciding to unpack instead.

Hearing Lydia’s suppressed laugh he looked up to find Lydia holding up his freshly washed lacrosse jersey and a ball of red string he’d decided to pack. Stiles scratched his head, trying to think of a logical reason for packing both. ‘For the investigation…?’

Shaking her head, she put the ball of string on his bedside table next to her framed sketch of the Nemeton, he never did give it to her.

‘Come on, into bed’

‘I’m not tired,’ she may have believed him if it weren’t for the yawning, ‘Ok I possibly am, but I don’t want to stay up here.’

‘Fine, you can sleep on the couch and I’ll make some soup.’

‘You can’t cook.’

‘I can cook.’

*

Thirty minutes later, it was Stiles’ turn to laugh. Lydia stood in front of him, the fire alarm going off in the background and her once perfectly coiffed hair in disarray. ‘I can’t cook’, the words were said with such disappointment that if she had served him the soup he would have said it was delicious as it burnt his taste buds.

‘Isn’t being a genius, artist and banshee not enough?’

She plucked down next to him on the couch, her pale green blouse covered in tomato stains. ‘I’m going to go get cleaned up and then we can order take out.’

*

Stiles was once again flicking through the channels when he heard Lydia stride down the staircase, she always walked with such purpose. Looking up, he saw she had changed her top, she was now wearing his jersey and a primal part of him was exceedingly satisfied by the sight. 

Clearing his throat, he moved to make room for her on the couch. For half a beat, they sat in silence. He was tempted to take out his phone when Lydia broke the silence, ‘So, what do you want to watch?’

His mind went blank.

‘Stiles?’

‘Star Wars?’

‘Sure.’

‘Wait, you want to watch Star Wars?’

‘I’ve seen Star Wars. I like Star Wars.’

‘So when I dressed up as Han Solo when we were in the sixth grade and you said you didn’t know who I was…’ She didn’t say anything; she wasn’t particularly fond of the years she spent pretending she was anything less than the genius she was. It still warmed her heart remembering it was Stiles who knew the truth, Stiles who had seen through her façade.

When the food arrived, they sat on the couch and marathoned Star Wars (the originals only). ‘You are a terrible patient,’ Lydia teased as she felt him relax next to her. ‘You have terrible bedside manners’, he replied, his voice slightly muffled by sleep.

Lydia smiled as he rested his head on her shoulder and finally gave in to sleep. 

*

They woke the next morning to find the Sheriff standing in front of them with his hands on his hips. ‘It was an animal attack,’ was all he said before trudging up the steps to find his own bed.

*

Stiles picked up his phone for the third time, before throwing it back onto his bed and continuing to pace.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his phone and dialled before he had a chance to chicken out and text Lydia instead. ‘Hello,’ hearing her voice he froze, words were forgotten. ‘Stiles...’

‘Yhe, erm… I just phoned to say thank you.’

‘It was fun… I’ve missed spending time with you, time that doesn’t involve solving mysteries, even if we’re good at it.’

‘We should oven a detective company, we could call it the Martinski Detective Agency’

‘Martinski?’

‘Not my best?’ Stiles asked, now sitting on his bed, throwing the ball of string up in the air.

‘No’, she laughed. ‘How about Stydia?’

‘I like that,’ she chuckled, ‘the Stydia Detective Agency, supernatural specialists.’ Her laugh was cut off by a loud sneeze.

‘You’re ill.’

‘No, I’m not, I don’t get ill.’

‘I’ll be there in five.’


	4. Halloween Haunted House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation (kinda) from a previous chapter, Lydia decides that she and Stiles are dressing up as Princess Leia and Han Solo for Halloween. The gang goes to a Haunted House, some chaos ensues and a little romance.

FRIDAY 23RD OCTOBER

LYDIA:  
Text: Will you be the Solo to my Leia?  
Delivered at: 21:37 PM  
Read at: 21:39 PM

STILES:  
Text: Lydia…. If this is code, I’m not smart enough to break it.  
Delivered at: 21:40 PM  
Read at: 21:40 PM

LYDIA:  
Text: It’s Halloween next week, and… I feel guilty about what I did…  
Delivered at: 21:41 PM  
Read at: 21:42 PM

STILES:  
Text: We were in the sixth grade… we were different people.  
Delivered at: 21:43 PM  
READ AT: 21:44 PM

LYDIA  
Text: Stiles, it’s Halloween next week. I’m dressing up as Princess  
Leia and you’re dressing up as Han Solo. End of discussion.  
Delivered at: 21:45 PM  
Read at: 21:45 PM

STILES:  
Text: Yes ALPHA!  
Delivered at: 21:46 PM  
Read at: 21:47 PM

LYDIA:  
Text: It’s Madam Banshee to you  
Delivered at: 21:47 PM  
Read at: 21:48 PM

STILES:  
Text: Library tomorrow morning Madam Banshee?  
Delivered at: 21:49 PM  
Read at: 21:49 PM

LYDIA  
Text: If you want to pass your AP exams, yes.  
Delivered at: 21:51 PM  
Read at: 21:51 PM

STILES  
Text: See you tomorrow, Goodnight Lydia x  
Delivered at: 21:52 PM  
Read at: 21:53 PM

Text: Sweet Dreams Stiles x  
Delivered at: 21:53 PM  
Read at: 21:54 PM

SATURDAY 31ST OCTOBER

Stiles was nervous. His palms were sweating and every time he sat down, he jumped up again and began pacing. He hadn’t been this nervous since he’d given Lydia a fake emerald ring and a valentine card asking her to be his valentine in third grade (of course she’d thought it was from Jackson, she’d said yes and then proceeded to tell him precisely what he’d be buying her for Valentine’s day).

Looking in the mirror he straightened his black vest jacket, his blaster pistol resting on his hip. He made quiet the dashing young Han Solo if he did say so himself. Pulling out the pistol, he posed in front of the mirror, something he hadn’t done in a long time (and by long time he meant a week). He was interrupted from shooting his imaginary enemies by an amused cough.

Turning, with the pistol still in hand, he saw Scott and Malia standing at his bedroom door. He slowly lowered the pistol and holstered it. He crossed his arms and tried to lean nonchalantly against the wooden chest of draws, it would have worked if he hadn’t missed the piece of furniture altogether.

‘Having fun?’ Scott asked, his arms folded over his yellow Beavers 42 basketball jersey. Stiles couldn’t tell if the excessive facial hair was real, but with the blue and yellow jacket, he looked just like Scott Howard. Malia stood next to him dressed as… herself. ‘I was just, testing out my costume, speaking about costumes, we talked about this Malia. You were supposed to dress up.’

‘I am wearing a costume, I’m a girl who was raised with coyotes tying to adjust to human life.’

‘You dressed up as yourself?’

‘So did Scott!’

‘Technically I’m Scott Howard, he’s a character in a movie who’s a werewolf’

‘Well, Stiles – ‘

Stiles didn’t wait for Malia to finish the sentence, he was out the door and down the steps before the doorbell finished ringing. He’d spent the entire week trying to figure out which Leia costume she’d wear. Taking a deep breath, wiping his palms, he opened the door, his mouth hanging open at the sight that greeted him. Lydia sure as hell had dressed up as Princess Leia, just not 1983 Return of the Jedi Leia, more 2015, The Force Awakens. Not that she didn’t pull off the grey military look, with the purple sleeveless jacket and high black boots. 

‘Surprise’, the look she gave him, told him she knew exactly which look he’d been hoping for. ‘Definitely surprised.’

‘Good, because I’ve got another one for you.’ He was too dumbfounded to protest when she shook a bottle of baby powder into his chocolate brown hair. By the time she was done with him, they both looked like an older, distinguished Leia and Han. 

*

The four of them stood outside of the haunted house, Liam and Mason hadn’t waited for them. Sometimes, it was like looking after children with those two. Stiles didn’t want to say anything but he wasn’t entirely comfortable with going into that house. 

Stiles had been twelve, it had been his and Scott’s first Halloween without adult supervision. His father had warned them not to go into the haunted house. Naturally, he hadn’t listened. Especially, when he saw Jackson abandon Lydia who was adamant on going in. What better opportunity than that to show her he cared. In the end, he’d ended up running out while Lydia had waltzed through the place.

‘You coming?’ Lydia asked, slightly worried about the terrified look on his face. ‘Sure, let's go into the house designed to scare you because that’s fun.’

‘We’ve faced alpha werewolves, a dark druid, the nogitsune, and the beast, there is nothing in there that could possibly scare you.’

‘I’ve also watched Scott get a tattoo and you stabbed with a two-inch needle, that doesn’t mean I won’t faint the next time I see a needle.’

‘Come on Stiles’

*  
Everything was fine. Everything was fine. If he said those words enough times, perhaps they would be. He clutched Lydia’s hand, his palms no doubt beginning to sweat. He jumped, the front door slamming shut. ‘No, nope, na-ah’, Stiles tried to turn the door knob but the thick wooden door refused to budge. ‘Come on, Stiles,’ Lydia huffed, pulling him along with her. 

The house was dark, barely enough light to see two steps ahead of them. They were surrounded an eerie silence, that was penetrated with unnerving screams and cackling ghosts. The walls were covered in skulls and bones, he almost laughed at the replicas, perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all.

‘Lydia look,’ he started playing with one of the skulls, adjusting if jaw as he made incoherent moaning noises. With his hand still on the plastic head, ‘this place isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.’ As soon as he said the last word, skeletons and spiders dropped from above. He jumped and screamed, batting the insects out of his hair, ‘get them off, get them off, get them-‘

‘Stiles!’

He didn’t know where the rest of the pack was, what else this ‘haunted’ house had in store for him, or the fact she would probably hear him scream like a girl again (a comparison she wouldn’t appreciate). All that mattered was that smile, the look of pride she had when she looked at him, and the hand she had stretched out towards him. Taking it, they continued walking through the hallway (trying not to reach behind him to swap away an imaginary creature).

It was the final room. So far he’d survived vampires jumping out at him, Zombie chases, and an axe killer. He was shaking, pale, and sweating, but he was still there, and Lydia was still by his side. The final room was pitch black, he couldn’t see his own hand, let alone anything else.

The first time he felt a lingering touch he thought it was his mind, his fears, playing tricks on him. But then it happened again, he felt a hand on his shoulder, his back, his leg, his arms… Every time he moved the phantom followed. Something pushed him against the wall, claws racking the paint beside his face. The creature’s growl reverberated through him, he could practically feel its fangs above his jugular. ‘Lydia…run…’ his words were just above a whisper as two luminous blue eyes looked down at him.

‘No’, her voice was steady, attracting their werewolf’s attention. Stiles scrambled for a switch along the wall, hitting the switch he pushed at the werewolf. The light blinded the humongous man, Stiles clambered beneath his raised arms, using himself as a shield between the werewolf and Lydia. 

He tried edging her out of the room, but she refused to more. A few years ago he would have said, out of fear, but not anymore. When she touched his arm, he stopped trying to move her backwards. Looking over his shoulder he saw the determined look in her eye, he wanted to beg her to run, but she’d come too far, grown too much to run now. Stepping aside, he missed his bat, and let the werewolf and the banshee face off.

Lydia and the werewolf circled one another, each waiting for the other to make its first move. The werewolf, untrained and blood-thirsty, growled, baring its fangs just before it leapt. The muscled beast swiped at her torso, but she was too fast. Rolling beneath his reach she leapt up, kicking him from behind. Turning with a growl, the Beta attacked again.

Stiles watched helplessly. It was as if she were possessed. Her attacks were flawless. If he were only human, he would have been dead. He continued trying to call Scott, but it was no help. His phone kept going to voicemail and his cried for help blending into the music of the haunted house. He’d have felt better if he’d just had his bat.

‘STILES!’, he looked up at her cry, to find her staring at him. Before he could decipher the look of utter horror on her face, he heard a terrifying growl from behind. Turning, he found two bright red hungry eyes looking back at him. There was nothing he could do, when with one hit, Stiles hit the opposite wall. Lydia quickly crouched next to him, her hand cradling his head, and the other lightly on his chest.

When the Alpha and his Beta stepped forward, Lydia did the only thing she could without leaving Stiles’ side, she screamed.

Scott, Malia, and Liam fell to the ground, their ears bleeding as Lydia’s scream echoed through the haunted house. Scott roared in reply, his eyes red, and his face already transformed. Malia and Liam quickly followed suit; together they ran.

Stiles exhaled a sigh of relief when he heard Scott’s booming roar. The monsters that loomed over them, paused. Their bloodthirst quickly replaced with anticipation and fear, they had heard of the alpha of Beacon Hills.

Seeing Stiles and Lydia crouched on the floor Scott roared again, he could feel his features transforming more than any of his friends were used to. But he was too angry. They had hurt his pack. Every animal instinct screamed for him to protect what was his.

Stiles watched his best friend, one of the kindest people he knew, rip the two werewolves apart in his rage. He was not merciful; he was not lenient; he was not forgiving. They were broken and bleeding by the time he stopped. ‘You will leave Beacon Hills tonight, and if you ever try to hurt me or my pack again, you won’t leave alive,’ he growled.

‘More will come’, the alpha wheezed.

‘Let them,’ stepping over their limp bodies he helped lift Stiles from the ground, while Malia checked over Lydia. ‘Let’s go home’, each of them nodded at their Alpha’s command, home sounded good.

Scott sat on the black leather armchair, with Malia sprawled in front, with her hands under her chin as she munched on the salted pop-corn by her side. Liam and Mason sat on the couch, open boxes of pizza on the table in front of them as they argued about what to watch. Stiles sat on the armchair opposite to Scott, a small smile on his face when Lydia returned with an empty cauldron of candy. Raising his eyebrow in question, she laughed, before sliding onto the armchair, snuggled into the small space between his side and the armrest. ‘She was dressed like a banshee.’

‘So you gave her all the candy?’

‘Yeah’, Lydia smiled when Stiles' chest shook with laughter. She felt… happy and safe.

For the rest of the night, they sat in Scott’s living room, eating candy, popcorn, and pizza and watched Star Wars all night long. Though if Scott was honest, he wasn’t sure he’d understand every reference Stiles would no doubt make for the next few months. But that was okay. His pack, his friends, his family, they were all safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any prompts??


	5. Forgotten but Not Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His father doesn't remember him. His best friend has forgotten him. And the love of his life has no idea he ever existed. In the Otherworld, Stiles may not have a way back, but he does have his hopes and dream but is this enough to keep him going?

They had forgotten. They had all forgotten him. His father. His best friend. The girl he loved. His friends. None of them remembered him. He wasn’t dead, he wasn’t a ghost from their past, he was just gone. He never existed. He had never been a part of their lives. But he remembered everything. 

He remembered holding his father after his mother died. He remembered growing up with Scott. He remembered seeing Lydia for the first time in the sandbox. He remembered the night with Malia at Eichan House. He remembered it all.

He didn’t know where he was, it looked like an underground subway, but it never ended. No matter how far he ran, how many twists and turns he took, he couldn’t find a way out. He felt as if he were running around in circles, in an endless maze with no escape. He didn’t know how long he’d spent in the Otherworld, there was no way to tell how many days had passed but it felt like decades.

There were so many people here, some who knew each other, clung to one another. But there were many, who he didn’t recognize, wearing clothes from different eras and languages he didn’t understand. The Wild Hunt had been going on for a long time.

If he’d been a werewolf, he would have growled at the man who’d snuck up behind him. Peter. Of all the people, he had to keep bumping into, it had to be that bastard. ‘Correct me if I was wrong, but didn’t you say someone would remember you?’ if he thought he could get away with it, he would have punched the jerk in the face. Instead, he ignored him, running his hand over the cracked grey wall. There had to be a way out. ‘Come on Stiles, you’re supposed to be the funny one,’ he scoffed.

His sarcastic reply was at the tip of his tongue when he heard it. He couldn’t make out the words, but hearing that voice he felt like home. The scene around him changed as if he was in a dream. One moment he was in the crowded tunnels with Peter and the next he was back at the school with Lydia. His body moved on instinct as if he were a passenger in his own body.

Okay look, they’re coming for me.

He could still feel his hand along his neck, her racing pulse beneath his fingertips.

So you have to get away from me right now! Okay?

He could still feel her strawberry blonde hair sliding through his fingers.

I’m not leaving you!

His breath catching at the emotion behind her words. Once again they were moving, but rather than running to his jeep, he was yanked out of his beautiful nightmare. ‘What? What happened?’

His head turned, his arms waving as if he were trying to catch the illusion of being home. ‘Well, first you stopped talking. Then, you started running around like a crazy person – and yes I know the type – until you froze.’

‘I was…’

‘Yes Stiles.’

‘Nothing,’ Stiles raked his hand through his hair, falling to the ground, ‘nothing’.

Peter almost felt a slither of pity when he saw Stiles on the ground, defeated and confused. He’d come to understand the folly of underestimating the child, he had a knack for figuring things out. When he’d found him in this place, he had hoped he’d be able to find a way out; for both of them. Deciding it was probably best to leave him alone, at least for a little while, Peter left to conspire with some other unsavory characters. Perhaps, they had a way out.

Stiles barely noticed he was alone. Zipping up his hoodie, he huddled into a corner and closed his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, he’d dream of Lydia again.

It was a dream. He knew it that time. But that didn’t stop him from wishing it was real. 

He was sat on an old wooden bench, overlooking the play area. Parents sat scattered around the park, with one eye on their phones and the other on their child. He felt oddly content. The burning desire to be useful, to be doing something, hunting the supernatural; gone. He was happy.

Suddenly, the rich aroma of coffee tickled his senses, distracting him from his vigilance. Taking the coffee cup from her delicate hands, he smiled at the woman sitting by his side. Her strawberry blonde hair was braided into a plate, hazel glasses on the tip of her nose, and countless papers already spread across her lap and on the bench. ‘I’m going to be late tonight; I have a faculty meeting.’

He was so enthralled by the crease forming in the middle of her forehead he missed his own lips, staining his shirt. Lydia jumped at his cry, pulling a tissue from her purse, wiping away at the stain. It was in that moment, with her hands on his chest, he realized he was wearing the sheriff’s uniform and badge. 

Lifting his hand to stop her tending, he froze once again. A silver band on his left hand gleamed in the sunlight. Taking a closer look, he saw it was engraved, with the words that defined everything he felt for Lydia: Always. He had always loved her, cared for her, believed in her. Lifting her left hand off of his chest he saw that it wasn’t just his wedding band that was engraved. He let loose a bark of laughter when he saw what was written on hers: Remember. He gently kissed her knuckles and savored the look of innocence and love he saw in her expression. ‘I love you Mrs. Stilinski’.

‘It doesn’t matter how many times you say it, Stiles, it’s still Mrs. Martin-Stilinski’, she chastised him with a smile, ‘and I love you too Mr. Stilinski.’ She pulled him forward by the lapels of his khaki shirt, kissing him gently on the lips.

He could have stayed like that forever, but the innocent cried of a child pulled them from their flirting. ‘Oh God,’ Lydia leaped from her seat, her papers scattering to the ground. She ran to the child that fell. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she lifted the child into her arms, cuddling her as she marched back to him in her high heeled boots.

He didn’t remember the moment lifted his arms, but as soon as they were by his side, he had the blonde haired, chubby-cheeked cherub in his arms. The child wrapped her arms around his neck, snuggling into him, with her forehead resting on the crook of his neck. ‘What happened my little Ariel?’ He asked, his arms protectively wrapped around his angel. ‘Al pushed me’, her voice was smothered by the thumb she was sucking on (a habit Lydia had been trying hard to get her out of). ‘Why did Al push you?’

‘I told him mom could beat Uncle Scott in a fight,’ Stiles almost laughed at the defensive tone of his five-year-old, but Lydia’s look of disapproval had him school his expression. Instead, using his stern dad voice, ‘Ariel, we talked about this, we don’t talk about this. We don’t talk about mom and Uncle Scott’s fight.’

‘But Al didn’t believe me! He said because his dad is a boy and mom is a girl, his dad would win. He said boys are stronger than girls and then he pushed me!’

‘Well, Al will learn soon enough that, that’s not true, just like Uncle Scott did’, his voice break a fit of contagious laughter that had both father and daughter in fits. Even Lydia, who tried to look stern broke character and smiled remembering how she’d thrown Scott across the room and had him begging for mercy the week before.

‘Can I spend the rest of the day with you, dad? I don’t want to go to Uncle Scott’s’

‘Sorry Ariel, Daddy’s got a case. Besides, you and Al won’t stay mad at each other for long.’

‘Fine.’

‘Don’t pout’, he nudged her chin so her chocolate brown eyes stared back at him, ‘tonight, we’ll watch The Little Mermaid.’

‘One and two?’

‘Promise.’

Twisting, she turned to her mother, ‘Mommy, will you read me The Little Mermaid?’

‘Of course’, Lydia promised, kissing the tip of her button nose. ‘Wait, you’re gonna read the movie?’ Stiles interrupted.

‘It was a book first,’ mother and daughter sighed in unison, shaking their heads at the terrible joke he made every time Ariel asked for that bedtime story. Handing Ariel to Lydia, he watched the two most important women in his life laugh and cuddle. He felt content. He felt happy.

Glancing up he watched his best friend and nephew, who looked just like his father down to the soft curls, approach them. Al’s shoulders were hunched, his hands in his pocket, and eyes cast down. With a slight nudge from Scott, he mumbled an apology. Scott crouched down, ‘ready to go?’ he asked Ariel his hands held out, ready to take her. Ariel hesitated for a second before jumping into his arms. She squealed with laughter when effortlessly lifted Al into his other arm and swung them around. ‘I’ll pick her up at six’, Stiles said as he and Lydia stood up, straightening their clothes and packing up their belongings. ‘Make it six-thirty, cause tonight we’re having PIZZA!’ The kids screamed in celebration at the announcement.

‘Goodbye Ariel’, Stiles said, kissing his trouble maker on the cheek. ‘Miss Lorrain Claudia Stilinski, behave,’ her mother warned before kissing her baby’s other cheek, ‘I love you’.

Stiles and Lydia watched Scott walk across the park with a child on each shoulder, dipping now and then, causing them to yelp in amused surprise. Lydia slipped her hand into his, knitting her fingers through his she leaned into his shoulder.

When Stiles opened his eyes he knew he had a goofy smile on his face. In that moment, it didn’t matter if it was just a dream, it was like a puzzle piece had fallen into place. He didn’t know how, but he knew he was getting out.

‘What is wrong with the children of this generation? One second you’re holding an imaginary person’s hands and the next you’re smiling at the empty air. I’m seriously reconsidering your level of intelligence.’

‘Seriously?! You couldn’t give me FIVE minutes of happiness?’

‘Who were you dreaming about?’

‘Someone named Lydia,’ the kid, whose name Stiles still couldn’t remember, piped in. ‘Oh! I don’t blame you, I mean if I was a decade younger-’, Peter cut off the rest of his remark when he saw the murderous look on Stiles’ face. 

Stiles was so close to hitting him. He knew he couldn’t win in a fight but giving him a broken would be worth the broken bones. From the corner of his eye, he saw a shimmer in the air as if there was a crack. A soft light peeked through it. ‘Do you see that?’ Stiles said in a hushed tone, afraid he would chase the crack away.

‘Yes,’ Peter was shocked, his eyes widening as the crack stretched to show a dim image of a girl bent over a sheet of paper with a spotlight covering her face. But he knew who it was. They watched her. Her pen stabbing at the ivory white paper as if possessed. 

Suddenly, she stopped. Looking up she asked a simple question. ‘What did she say?’ Peter asked, his eyes squinting as he tried to make out the words her lips were forming.

‘What the hell is a Stiles?’ he laughed, when Peter and the boy continued to look confused, he laughed harder. The crack snapped close, but it didn’t matter, it would open again. He would find his way back to her. Because, even though she didn’t remember him, she would eventually. 

He was forgotten, but he wasn't gone.


	6. Just Another Midnight Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Stiles and Lydia's midnight adventures to find the supernatural in Beacon Hills doesn't exactly end the way Stiles was hoping, but he'd be lying if he said the night ended in complete disappointment.

Her textbooks and papers were scattered across her beige bedcovers, fluffy soft pillows stacked behind her as her pencil danced across the maths equations.

Plunk

She scratched the top of her head, trying to complete the assignment using the ‘correct’ formulas, but her mind was adamant in doing things its own way.

Plunk

The tip of her pencil was hovering above her textbook when she heard a light knock on her bedroom door.

Plunk

‘Come in Mom,’ Lydia chirped, tying her hair up in a messy bun.

Plunk

‘Finished all your homework?’

‘Just five more Math questions and I’m done.’

Plunk

‘Good, besides this should have been done at the beginning of summer, not a week before the beginning of term.’

‘I was working on something else…’, Lydia drifted off, her mind still on the problem at hand.

Plunk

‘When you’re done please tell Stiles to stop throwing pebbles at your window, he’s going to leave scratches.’

Plunk

‘Yes Mom’

‘Goodnight Sweetie,’ she kissed the top of her head, her eyes lingering on her little girl for a few seconds longer than usual. ‘Goodnight Mom’.

Plunk

Lydia packed her books into her deceivingly big handbag, before sliding into her black leather jacket. It was a good thing she’d decided to wear jeans; it was going to be a cold night.

Stiles lobbed another pebble at Lydia’s window, he’d tried calling but her phone continued to go to voicemail. But, the light from her window was still on, which meant she was probably studying. Who studied during summer? Didn’t she understand? There was a potential supernatural case waiting for their special set of skills. Admittedly, it was only Thursday and this was the third time he’d come over, but this could be the one! He readied another pebble, bending his arm as he took aim-

‘You’re not taking the wind into your calculations’, Stiles jumped at the sound of Lydia’s voice.

‘What?!’, Lydia took the stone from his hands and lobbied it at his own window. He’d missed three out of five times, but Lydia’s was a perfect hit, her aim flawless. ‘The strength of the wind changes the trajectory… what?’ Lydia asked, confused by the look he gave her.

‘You’re so smart’, he said it in such quiet awe she blushed. Now that people knew how smart she was, she’d become accustomed to the compliments, but it always meant a little more when he said it. Perhaps it was because he’d been one of the few who had seen past her mask of beautiful stupidity. ‘So,’ she cleared her voice, ‘where are we going this time?’

‘Old man Danny reported his grandson as missing.’

‘Danny Mahealani’s a drunk, and he doesn’t have any children, let alone a grandchild.’

‘True, BUT the license plate number he gave my dad was an abandoned car found at this address,’ Stiles gave her the DMV report he’d stolen from his father’s desk.

‘And you want me to….?’

‘Come check it out with me, see if you get any Banshee Vibes?’

‘Banshee Vibes’

‘Banshee death predictions sounds pessimistic,’ shaking her head she followed Stiles to his jeep. While Stiles drove, she read the report, again and again, the name Danny nagging at a thought her conscious mind couldn’t quite grasp.

When they arrived at the address, they found a derelict abandoned house, oddly sitting between two beautifully groomed homes. It didn’t belong. Perhaps, this was the supernatural break they’d been looking for. Following Stiles’ lead, they broke into the run-down house. Lydia barely lifted an eyebrow when he opened the door with beaming satisfaction, this was, after all, was the fourth house they’d broken into. Hopefully, it would end better than the other three instances when they’d ended up arrested and in the Sherriff’s office.

Stiles handed her a flashlight, a metal bat in his other hand. When they came to the end of the hallway Stiles motioned her to search the rest of the floor, while he climbed the stairs. But, before he’d taken a step, she yanked him back to her, ‘we are not splitting up’, she hissed.

‘Scared?’

‘No.’

‘Liar,’ he laughed. 

‘Last time you went off on your own you screamed so loudly the neighbors called the police’, she whispered back.

They slowly made their way through the house, but no matter how many times Stiles asked if she was getting any feelings or vibes, the answer was the same; cold, I’m feeling cold. 

The house was in ruin, fading wallpapers peeling off the walls, dust and grime covering every surface, and not a piece of furniture in sight. Every room was empty and in decay, no one had lived there for over twenty years. Only one room remained to be searched; the basement.

‘Nope, no, nada, absolutely not’, Lydia said, shaking her head and backing away from the slightly ajar door, ‘I’ll be waiting in the jeep.’ Stiles grasped her shoulders, swinging her back to the door, ‘this is the last place to look, if we find nothing I will admit old man Danny is crazy and that he never had a grandson also named Danny who was arrested for cyber crimes when he was thirteen.’

‘If there was a kid named Danny our age, who was a genius with computers, I would know’, Lydia stated in a matter-of-fact manner that left no room for argument. When he refused to move, Lydia threw up her arms and motioned for him to lead the way.

Lydia walked closely behind him down the creaking wooden steps, her hand on his shoulder (she should have worn sneakers). Like the rest of the house, the basement too way abandoned, the countless racks that should have held bottles of wine, stood empty. Lydia ran her fingers across the wall, once again she felt a hint of recognition but it was gone as soon as she focused on it. She shook her head, her eyebrows knitting together, ‘What? What do you feel? What do you see?’ Stiles questioned, his head bobbing in front of hers. ‘Nothing… just…’

‘Yes?’ his eyes wide with anticipation.

‘Déjà vu… already seen.’

‘But you’ve never been here before.’

‘Not that I remember’

‘Huh’, Stiles looked as if his mind was working overtime, trying to find some, if any connection, between her, the boy that never existed and the house with no owner. ‘Stiles, can’t we do this at home?’ Lydia pleaded, her voice slightly shaking from the cold, small puffs of cloud between them. Stiles hadn’t noticed how cold it had gotten until he took her frozen hands in his.

‘Lydia I…’

Whatever he had intended to say was cut off by the slam of the basement door. Stiles and Lydia ran up the wooden steps, but no matter how much they shoved at it, it refused to budge. The steps beneath them began to groan under their weight, ‘we need to get off these steps’, Lydia said, quickly running down the steps with Stiles close at her heels. Within seconds, the rotten steps fell away. ‘Stiles, call your dad.’

‘I’m sure we could-’

‘Stiles!’  
‘Fine!’ his voice juvenile as he unlocked his phone. ‘Stiles, if you don’t call I swear I will scream and blow your eardrums.’

‘It’s still ringing!’ he shouted back.

‘Stiles, its three in the morning, why are you calling me three in the morning, when you’re two doors away from me? PLEASE tell me you’re in your room?’ Lydia could hear the Sherriff’s furious voice through the speakers.

‘I am in a house and I am in a room-’

‘Stiles! If I open your bedroom door and you are not in that room I swear to god I am going to kill you’, Stiles waited for a beat, his face scrunched up waiting… ‘STILES!’

‘I took the report, grabbed Lydia, and went to investigate but we got locked in the basement and we can’t get out because the stairs crashed to the ground.’

‘Give the phone to Lydia,’ the Sheriff instructed, breathless as he rummaged through his room, looking for his clothes. ‘Yes, Sherriff?’

‘Sit tight, I’m on my way, and make sure my son doesn’t talk you into doing anything stupid.’

‘Yes sir,’ Lydia handed Stiles back his phone, but rather than looking scared, he looked amused. He dropped to the ground, patting the ground beside him. Lydia looked from the door to him, until finally giving in and sitting next to him. The ground was freezing, racking her slim form with renewed shivers, her black jacket useless against the cold. Stiles wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

Lydia froze at first, this wasn’t the first time he’d held her but it felt different. But, the heat he radiated was seductive, slowly she relaxed, snuggling into his embrace further. ‘What were you going to say earlier?’ she asked, her voice still low.

‘Nothing, it can wait’, with her head nestled in the crook of her neck, he was afraid the words he’d kept inside for so long would chase her away.

An hour later, Scott ripped the door off its hinges and jumped down into the basement. ‘Are they okay?’, the Sheriff’s voice echoed down to them, Scott didn’t need to be a werewolf to hear his anxiety. Looking down at them, he smiled, ‘they’re fine’, he replied.

Lydia sat snuggled into his side, her arms wrapped around his torso, while his were wrapped around her. Nudging Stiles’ knee, he gently jolted his best friend awake.

Stiles woke slowly, at first unsure where he was, only aware of a warm body fitting perfectly against him. Slowly, his ill-advised midnight adventure came back to him, smiling when he remembered who he was cuddling while his best friend watched. 

He waved Scott’s knowing smile away, he cupped Lydia’s cheek, gently waking her. At first, when she opened her eyes and saw him, she smiled. But when she noticed where they were and that they had an audience she untangled herself from him, ‘we should go…’

‘Yhe…’ but he didn’t move, he tucked a lock of stray hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear, “Lydia, there’s something I’ve-’

‘Stiles!’ He jerked away at his father’s sharp tone. Stiles laughed to himself when Scott jumped with Lydia in his arms from the basement up to the Sheriff, one day he’d tell her. One day, he’d tell her he loved her, he’d always loved her… just not today.


End file.
